


SS-A84

by ladydragon76



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Fanfiction, Genre: PWP, M/M, Rating: NC-17 - Freeform, character: masquerade(oc), character: sideswipe, character: smokescreen, genre: drama, genre: humor, smut: sticky, verse: idw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-13
Packaged: 2018-01-07 11:51:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1119495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydragon76/pseuds/ladydragon76
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b> Life aboard an Autobot space station is full of activity and drama on a good day.  Shame that Masquerade rather prefers the quiet life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Masqueadrift](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masqueadrift/gifts).



> **‘Verse:** IDW  
>  **Series:** None  
>  **Rating:** NC-17  
>  **Characters:** Smokescreen, Masquerade, Sideswipe  
>  **Warnings:** Sticky  
>  **Notes:** Thank you to MasqueAdrift who commissioned this!

Masquerade sighed as he entered the space station’s bar. Slag it all to the Pits that the staff’s commissary had its energon dispenser on the fritz. Sure, the bar wouldn’t charge staff for ration-grade energon for staffers, but it still left Masquerade stuck in the bar of a space station with all the mechs on shore leave. He did _not_ feel like dealing with drunken glitches just out for a quick ‘face. He’d just come off a double shift, was tired, cranky, and already plain _done_ with the noise level.

Aaaand… Masquerade couldn’t even leave the bar to enjoy the energon in peace because the bartender was really nice and sympathetic, but had said that with as busy as it was, he really needed all the glasses he had kept _in_ the bar.

Slag.

Masquerade chose a small table in a back corner, doorwings angled back in the hopes that that would protect them from anyone stumbling into them. Weary, dim optics watched the crowd without seeing them. The mechs were a wash of colors and sound as he sipped his energon and zoned out.

He was just starting to calm down, just thinking, _Ok, I was being a bit dramatic, this isn’t **so** awful. I’ll survive, and my berth is waiting, plus I’m even off-shift tomorrow,_ when a hand swept over a doorwing.

“Not a common color for a Praxian,” a mech purred by Masquerade’s audial. He swung into the seat, hand gripping and stroking out over Masquerade’s doorwing, pulling it toward him.

Masquerade glowered, reached back, and lifted the mech’s hand off with a well-aimed pincher grip to his wrist cable. “Please do not touch me.”

“I really love purple,” the mech said, propping his chin in his hand, elbow on the table as though Masquerade had said nothing. “You’re a gorgeous shade of it too. Makes that white stripe just pop.” He flashed what Masquerade suspected he thought was a winning smile, and stuck out his hand. “Hi. I’m Smokescreen. Friends call me Smoky.”

Masquerade cycled his vents, and reached out to clasp Smokescreen’s wrist. “Masquerade. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m tired. I want to drink my energon, then recharge.”

Smokescreen didn’t budge except to draw his hand back in a slow caress of Masquerade’s palm and fingers. Masquerade’s mouth twisted involuntarily in distaste, and he pulled his hand free.

To the Smelters with manners. “Please go away.”

“Shy, huh?”

Smokescreen reached out, and only a quick flick of Masquerade’s doorwing kept him from touching it again. Of course, he smacked a different mech with it, and had to twist to offer an apology. At least _that_ mech had been polite, waving it off and continuing on his path without fuss. Unfortunately, while Masquerade was distracted and not looking, Smokescreen had slid his chair closer.

“I like the shy ones,” Smokescreen said.

“I’m not shy. What I am is completely uninterested.” Masquerade shifted his chair away, and blatantly focused on his energon, working to consume the ration without just guzzling it down in a rush. Damnit. He should be able to sit at a farking table and not be molested by a frelling drunk.

Masquerade tensed, nearly choking on the mouthful of energon as Smokescreen reached over and traced his headlight.

The glass slammed down, Masquerade grabbed the mech’s wrist and twisted it outward.

Smokescreen yelped, then laughed. “Easy, sweetspark! Easy! I mean I like to play rough but- Hey! Ow!”

Masquerade kept the pressure on the sensor cluster. “Stand up. Walk away. Never speak to me again.”

Instead of obeying, Smokescreen slid off his chair, twisted while crouching and broke the hold. He smelled strongly of high grade, but that move had been far too graceful for him to be as drunk as Masquerade had thought. He glared as the mech came up, leaning in over him.

Fine. He’d make a fragging scene. Damnit.

“I’ll be reporting you.”

“We’re both Praxian. Not many of us left. We _should_ be sticking together,” Smokescreen said, and Masquerade was getting damn tired of everything he said being completely ignored. Especially the ‘don’t touch’ part when Smokescreen slid a hand down behind Masquerade’s shoulder to a wing hinge to make extra clear what he meant about ‘sticking together’. Just in case Masquerade hadn’t clued in.

Frelling glitched bastard.

Masquerade braced his feet, then quickly stood, body checking Smokescreen and forcing him back a step. The arm over his shoulder was gripped tight and pushed up. Masquerade dipped under it, twisting, then threw Smokescreen over his hip to land with a loud clang and crowd-stopping shout.

Everyone paused. Everyone looked.

Masquerade felt his face heat, but flicked back his doorwings, squared his shoulders, and announced with all the authority he could muster, “This space station does not tolerate assault in _any_ form, nor do the Autobots in general. Consider yourself on report and your rights to shore leave here revoked.” He was so overstepping, but hopefully the station commander would back him up. Bolt really did try to run a tidy ship, but he didn’t like his decisions to be made for him.

“You can’t-” Smokescreen broke off with a curse as a polishing cloth was dropped over his face.

The red mech who had dropped it on him, crouched, hand planting on Smokescreen’s face to keep it covered. “Name’s Sideswipe. On behalf of our crew let me just say how sorry we are that he exists. How about I drag his sorry aft back to our captain before he gets the whole crew kicked off the station?”

“Yes, thank you.”

To everyone’s amusement, Sideswipe hauled Smokescreen up, shoved the cloth into his mouth to silence the swearing, and headed for the door. A path cleared before him, and then they were gone.

Masquerade grabbed his energon and drained it despite not having wanted to drink it so fast, but it felt like all the optics in the bar were on him. The damn day had been long enough, and he was embarrassed by feeling pushed into physical violence. The glass was returned to the bartender, and he exited as calmly and with as much dignity as he could muster.

Hopefully that damn dispenser would be fixed by the time he woke up.


	2. Chapter 2

Masquerade groaned as his wall comm chimed, and shoved himself up from his berth. “Yes,” he all but growled. Slaggit! He was _supposed_ to be off duty today.

“// _Sorry, Masque,_ // Gauge, another comms mech, said. // _I figured you’d be up by now. I have a message for you from a Sideswipe?_ //”

Masquerade checked his chrono, and bit back a curse. He hadn’t intended to recharge so late. “No, it’s fine. Just a long night.”

// _Yeah. Heard about that mech you tossed last night,_ //” Gauge laughed. // _Message is actually about that. You want it, or should I just stick it on hold for you for tomorrow._ ”//

Masquerade gave a moment of serious thought to just having Gauge keep it, but sighed and shook his helm. “No. Go ahead and put it through to my console. I’ll give it a listen.” If it required a response, however, he was going to let it sit until he really was back on duty.

// _Coming at you. Have a good day off._ //”

“Thanks.”

The comm clicked as Gauge closed the line, and only a moment later, Masquerade’s console beeped as the message came through. He crossed to his desk and sat down, bracing for whatever nonsense he was about to read. He’d dealt with it all before. Mechs put on report could do and say even dumber things than what had got them busted in the first place. Masquerade almost hoped the idiot from the previous night was threatening him. Threats were easier to deal with than the begging or bribing some engaged in.

Surprisingly, the message was none of the above. In fact it wasn’t even from Smokescreen, but from the mech that had hauled him off, Sideswipe.

**Hey, just wanted to let you know that hip throw was awesome. Smokescreen’s still sulking. Captain’s so slagged over the whole report and banishment from your space station thing that ol’ Smoky’s been stuck on punishment detail. He’s got to clean the whole ship.**

**Anyways. You’re cool, and I’m a bored slagger with nothing to do until the next fight, so if you feel like it, message me back sometime.**

**-Sides**

No, that was nothing close to what he’d been expecting. Masquerade shook his helm and snickered a little at the message, which included a direct reply, text only channel.

On a whim, he poked a finger at the ‘reply’ button on the screen, and tapped out a quick response.

**Thank you, I appreciate you letting me know that your captain is taking the incident**

Primus! What was he typing?

Masquerade deleted it all and started over.

**I’m glad to hear that handsy fragger is going to be kept busy for a while. I’m afraid though, that I’m a very boring mech when drunks aren’t groping me. Feel free to write if you like. I’ll see how entertaining I can be.**

**-Masquerade**

He hit send, snorting and knowing there was no way his text could convey the wry sarcasm he felt at the idea of being ‘entertaining’. He gave it until the next message before Sideswipe was trying to set up a hook-up for the next time he was on SS-A84.

Masquerade stood to go wash up. After that he would see if the commissary had that energon dispenser fixed yet, or if his day might be more exciting than he wanted it to be.

~ | ~

**Right?!** was all Sideswipe’s response was to Masquerade’s last rant about aftheaded glitches that were supposed to be trained maintenance bots. He laughed. Honestly, how could he not? There was so much emphatic agreement in that single word.

Sideswipe’s messages had become the highlight of Masquerade’s days over the last few weeks. He wasn’t always able to reply right away, and the length varied, topics roaming, but they never failed to get Masquerade to grin. He was happy to have been proven wrong about Sideswipe’s motives. The mech was just _bored_.

Masquerade had the time now that his shift was over, so sat to reply.

**It’s been a few days, so in related and pleasant news, that slagging dispenser is finally fixed. I am currently in my quarters, not a noisy damn bar, with my ration. I’m going to open a bookfile and read until I fall into recharge.**

Masquerade hit send, then pulled the spoken-of bookfile from his subspace. He leaned back in his chair, kicked his feet up on the desk, and thumbed on the datapad, and sipped at his energon.

Now _this_ was a nice way to spend an evening.

~ | ~

**See the attached file. It’s a great story, one of my favorites, and early enough in the series that you won’t be lost. If you really like it, I can send you the others and you can start from the beginning.**

Masquerade attached the bookfile to the message, then sent it.

~ | ~

**Are you fragging kidding me?!!** exclaimed the first message.

**No! NO!** Masquerade could hear the shout in the second.

**I don’t like this! Masque! Hold me!**

Masquerade laughed at the three messages that came in quick succession, then outright giggled as he prodded the screen to open the new one.

**HARDLIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!**

Almost immediately after the fourth came the fifth. **I’m sobbing. I hate you. Why? He’s my FAVORITE! You could have warned me he was going to die! I hope you rust, you slagger!**

Masquerade threw his head back and howled with laughter, but then the console beeped _again_.

Still giggling helplessly, he retrieved the message, reading, **Ok, I really don’t want you to rust, and I guess I don’t hate you, but WHYYYYYY!!!?? Why would you do this to me?! I bet you’re laughing, you bastard! Stop laughing at my pain! STOP IT!!**

Practically cackling, and having trouble typing from it, Masquerade replied with, **HAHAHAH! And you specifically told me NOT to give you spoilers for the series. Would you like to know who else dies, you big sparkling?**

Almost immediately after Masquerade hit send, another message came in. **Oh Frelling Primus! They’re just going to leave him there to RUST?!?!?! I am so fragging done with this book! Oh hey, a message back…**

**STOP LAUGHING! And slag you, no! Wait…. You mean someone else dies? No wait! Don’t answer that! Slaggit! You’re a sadist! You can’t see it, but I’m pointing at you and making rude gestures in your general direction. Fragging sadist slagger laughing at my tears!**

Masquerade answered his wall comm, still choking with laughter. “Yeah?”

“// _There’s a freighter coming in ahead of schedule- What’s so funny?_ //” Axelspin asked.

“Nothing I can easily explain. Let me guess though. My fun evening is being cancelled, Bolt needs all hands on deck for the supplies?”

“// _Yep. I get to go to the docking bay and unload slag all night. You luck out with your seniority and get to be here in comms._ //”

“Ok. I’ll be right up there.” Masquerade closed the comm, then hurried to his console.

**I’m afraid duty calls, but cry at me all you like. I’ll respond as soon as I can.**

Masquerade shut everything down, grabbed his energon -since he’d been too busy laughing at Sideswipe to drink it- and hurried out.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey there, sexy. When’s that ship dock?**

**That’s creepy. Quit it.**

Masquerade snickered, but before he could respond another message came through.

**Oh, all right! You can molest me! I’ll meet you in the place with the thing, where the thing happened in precisely three hours. Don’t be late or I’m likely to be on my back with my feet in the air for someone else.**

**See you then!** Masquerade replied.

“You giggle an awful lot anymore,” Axelspin commented.

Masquerade shook his helm. “Sideswipe’s funny.”

“Oh~ Invite me to the bonding.”

“Shut up.” Masquerade answered a call and booked a docking for the _Axiom_ in five days, then turned back to Axelspin. “What are you doing here so early? Your shift doesn’t start for another hour and a half.”

“Yeah,” Axelspin sighed, flumping into a spare seat and twisting back and forth, “but the _Star Strider_ ’s prepping to leave.”

“Oh~” Masquerade mocked. “The reason for all that smiling you’ve been doing heading off? Time for a last fare thee well?”

“Don’t tease. You’re just as bad with that Sidesweep mech.”

Masquerade snorted and shook his helm. “Side _swipe_ and I aren’t clanging.” At the disbelieving snort, he sighed. “Don’t believe me then, but we have way more fun screaming at and about the characters in books and gossiping about our crew mates.” He gave Axelspin a pointed look.

They stared at one another for a moment before both snickering.

“Fine. So leave. I need an excuse to be on comms when the ship leaves the dock.”

“So long as we’re clear that this is me doing you a favor, and you aren’t going to come back at me in the future saying I owe you ninety minutes.” Masquerade eyed Axelspin hard for a moment.

Axelspin’s hands came up in surrender. “I owe you one. Now get out of the chair.”

Masquerade huffed a light laugh, and logged out of the systems. “Have fun,” he said, and decided that three hours was just enough time to wash and copy the rest of his library for Sideswipe. Handing the mech a datapad would be a lot easier than sending the files piecemeal as he had been.

~ | ~

“Masque!” Sideswipe shouted.

Masquerade looked up from the datapad, and smiled as Sideswipe strode faster down the hall. “Hi! About time you- oof!”

Sideswipe laughed, lifting Masquerade into an enthusiastic hug. “Hi, yourself!”

“Uh…” Masquerade hung for a moment, feet off the floor, amused, but shocked, then wrapped his arms around Sideswipe’s shoulders to pat his back. “Yes. Hi. And high off the ground.”

Sideswipe snickered as he set Masquerade back on his feet. “You’re in space. Doesn’t get much higher off the ground.”

Masquerade eyed the red mech a moment.

“What?” Sideswipe smirked and shifted, posing and letting the lights flash off his plating. “You like?”

“I was just trying to decide if you’re more annoying in person or not.”

Sideswipe’s mouth dropped open, then he pointed at Masquerade. “Just for that, I’m not forgiving you for shattering my spark into a million pieces.” He turned, heading back toward the bar entrance.

“I didn’t write it,” Masquerade said.

“You didn’t tell me that Downshift was going to die.”

“You told me not to even tell you if more characters were going to die. Speaking of.” Masquerade held out the datapad as the doors to the bar slid apart. Noise washed over them, making him wince a bit. Primus, it was louder than usual tonight, what was going on?

“Ooo~ More stories?”

“My entire library,” Masquerade replied, frowning around at the rowdy loud mechs. “What do you say to grabbing our energon to go, and heading up to the observation deck? We aren’t going to be able to talk at all here.”

Sideswipe looked around, then down and Masquerade, and nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

Masquerade didn’t bother with talking until they were back out of the bar, and even then just nodded in the direction they needed to go. He led Sideswipe to the lift, then the wide, circular deck at the top of the space station. “One of my favorite places to come.”

“Yeah. Can’t beat the view,” Sideswipe said, walking toward the floor to ceiling windows.

Masquerade followed, but took a seat on one of the many comfortable benches, just watching the stars for a little bit. It seemed that the bar was the place to be on this night. The observation deck empty other than them and a trio of lovers on the far side snuggling.

“I’ll never get tired of it, ya know?” Sideswipe said, gesturing outward. He turned and walked back, sitting sideways and cross-legged on the bench. “And hey, thanks.” The datapad was lifted and waved a little. “Whole library, huh?”

Masquerade smiled and nodded. “There’re nineteen thousand, four hundred and eight-seven bookfiles. I doubt you’ll like all of them, but there are a lot of really good reads in there.”

Sideswipe grinned. “I’ve liked what you’ve shared so far.” He reached out and poked Masquerade’s shoulder. “Even if they keep killing my favorite characters.” He snickered and switched on the datapad, scrolling randomly. “I’ve decided, that I’ll just hate all the characters from now on, then when they die, I can be happy.”

Masquerade laughed. “That’s not going to work.”

Sideswipe looked up and narrowed his optics. “Why not? No more die? No one’s violent, bloody, gory, spark-breaking death going to occur?”

“Really want me to answer that?”

Sideswipe held his gaze for a moment, then snorted. “Fragger.” The datapad was thumbed off and tucked into his subspace, and then Masquerade got a bright smile. “Thank you though. Seriously. No one gives me decent reading material. Mostly just porn and the occasional weapons magazine. The porn gets boring. I’m better than most of that anyways, and the weapons are just a tease. Ya know damn well they’re never going to give me anything fancy. Hound keeps saying I’m too dangerous as it is.”

Masquerade tipped his helm at the porn comment, but Sideswipe just kept jabbering away. The topic went from weapons and Hound, to the other mechs on the _Ark 12_ , which led to an update on Smokescreen.

“He was getting there,” Sideswipe said with a smirk. "That was before he smarted off though, and was reminded that no one had said how _many_ times he had to clean the whole ship.”

Masquerade shook his helm. “Is he usually a trouble-maker?” They hadn’t actually spoken of Smokescreen since those very first messages.

“Kinda? I mean he likes to gamble, and he’s always chasing after some mech or other. I mean don’t get me wrong. I’m a mech that likes his ‘facing too, but Smokescreen creeps me out.” Sideswipe frowned, and so did Masquerade.

“He’s handsy as a habit?”

“Yeah. Nothing that usually gets him in trouble.” Sideswipe shrugged. “I’m kinda big on consent though. Like… _really_ big on it. Lot of mechs don’t quite get it, but…” Another shrug. “I’m particular. Anyways.” Sideswipe flashed a smile. “We’re all waiting to see if the fragger really does have to start all over.”

“I don’t think I’m that annoyed with him anymore.” Masquerade lifted his glass of energon, surprised to see it empty.

Sideswipe chuckled. “Time flies.” He held out his glass too and jiggled it a bit. “Guess we better take these back to the bar, then I’ll have to head back to the ship.”

Masquerade stood. “Back to messages we go.”

“Yep! But those are fragging fun. You wouldn’t believe the looks I get sometimes.” Sideswipe paused mid-step. “Actually… most of the time. But then I do a lot of cursing and shouting at the books too.”

Masquerade laughed. “I can imagine.”

After leaving their glasses back at the bar, Masquerade let Sideswipe drag him into another hug before they parted ways. He’d barely gotten back to his quarters when the console beeped with a message.

**I miss you already! Come run away with me!**

Masquerade chuckled, and typed back, **If I were to do that, would I get any of that supposedly better than porn ‘facing?**

**Maybe. But only after I was sure you loved me for my mind.**

**I’m afraid I’ll have to decline then. I just want to abuse you and use your sexy frame. Oh well. Good night, Sides! Be safe out there,** Masquerade replied.

**Yeah, that sounds like you, ya slagger. Rest good! I plan to read once we get this boat out into the black, and will be cursing your line back to the Cliffs all day tomorrow if Edgeblade dies. Which he probably will. Night!**


	4. Chapter 4

“So wait,” Sideswipe said as they lounged on the benches in the observation deck. “You’ve got Hunter blood?”

It was the _Ark 12_ ’s resupply again, and Masquerade was happy to get to see his friend once more, face to face. Or, close enough, since both of them were lying on the benches, helm to helm.

“My sire’s carrier. He was an exile. Left the tribe to explore, fell in love with a Praxian.”

“That’s pretty fraggin’ romantic.”

Masquerade chuckled. “They were still very much in love when the city fell. It was kind of adorable. I always wanted what they had.” Not that he wanted to wax on wistfully, especially not when that conversation would lead places Masquerade didn’t want to go. “Anyway. Yes. Part Hunter, but I’d never fit in with them. I’m far too city.

“And speaking of.” Because he needed a segue. “How far are you on that city simulation game I gave you? Manage to build out your center for the arts yet?”

“Not yet,” Sideswipe replied, letting the conversation flow in the new direction without protest. “I did get the whole emergency services bolstered though. Now when something catches fire, it doesn’t take out half the damn town.”

“Well, that’s good,” Masquerade said with a snicker. “You know…” He twisted, sitting enough to flick a doorwing out of his way so he could lean on an elbow and look at Sideswipe. “We could go to my quarters. I have some custom content I designed. If you’ve got the datapad with you, we can install that, and then I can trade you a few things.”

Sideswipe sat up. “Wait. You _designed_ custom content for it?”

“Yes.” Masquerade sat too, but waved a hand. “The code’s easy to understand, and I’m not the only one that does it. The game’s ancient. No way would it be playable and relevant for long if the players couldn’t adjust things when needed.”

“And that’s not cheating?”

“No. I mean, it’s not like I’m grabbing creds or supplies I haven’t earned.” Masquerade shrugged. “Not that cheating is a big deal. Everyone plays how they enjoy playing. It’s not like cheating at Nebulos. This is just for individual entertainment.”

Sideswipe stood. “Why aren’t you moving. Let’s go!”

Masquerade chuckled silently, and rose, following Sideswipe to the lift. Once in it, he took over, keying in the staff’s residential floor, then explaining a little more about the content as he led Sideswipe to his door.

“Hey, not a bad little place,” Sideswipe said.

“Thank you. We don’t get a whole lot of space, but this suits me well enough. I’m rarely in here, and don’t need much room when I am. Have a seat,” Masquerade offered, gesturing to the small sofa on the opposite wall from his desk. He walked over to the desk to grab his datapad, returning with a link cable and sitting beside Sideswipe as the red mech pulled his datapad from his subspace.

“Ok, so after this installs,” Sideswipe said, “then we can trade… what?”

“Well, the whole initial concept was built on mechs being able to trade with one another through the game’s network. Of course that’s _long_ gone. So this will allow us to trade. Do you have anything your city doesn’t need? Extra metals? Um… Probably not any stores of energon yet, right?”

“No, not energon. I have some spare titanium alloy I don’t need right now.”

“Ok, good.” Masquerade leaned over and pointed at an icon in the top corner. “See that?” He unplugged the link cable since the download and install was complete. “Tap that. Yes. Now choose network. Ok, my code’s four, nine, six, two, one, six, seven, seven, six, three. Save it.”

“Ok.”

“Ok, now tap it again, chose mine.” Masquerade’s datapad chimed, and he smiled. “There we go. Now what do you really need?”

“Energon,” Sideswipe huffed, and Masquerade snorted a little.

“Always. Just like real life.”

“Ain’t it though.”

They did manage some good progress before Sideswipe had to go back to his ship. He was a little closer to having the art center. Masquerade said he should focus on something more critical than art, but Sideswipe was adamant, and well, it was his city, so Masquerade would help him where he could.

~ | ~

The months between visits were filled with messages regarding various books, cheering over the games they shared, and discussing old vids. Visits were mostly spend up on the observation deck, and very rarely, Sideswipe would have a whole night before the _Ark_ would launch.

The day-long layovers were nice. Masquerade enjoyed having Sideswipe around long enough to watch a few movies with, and it was even nice to have a warm frame to recharge against. After the second night together they both gave up arguing with friends and coworkers that they weren’t interfacing. It was tedious, none of their slagging business, and Masquerade had better things to do than give them something more to gossip about with denials.

Masquerade learned all about Sideswipe’s twin, Sunstreaker, and their younger brother, Red Alert. Red Alert was a familiar name, but then, he was the best Security Director to serve the Autobots since the war started. Probably longer, really. Masquerade liked listening to Sideswipe talk about his brothers. There was pain there, and worry, and Masquerade thought that talking to someone that just listened might be good for Sideswipe.

Thinking the same for himself, Masquerade eventually felt comfortable enough to confide in Sideswipe about his almost bonding to a Seeker named Nightwing, who had joined the Decepticons. Praxus ended them officially, but Masquerade knew that it had really been Vos and his refusal to join the Decepticons with his intended that crushed whatever hope they had of a life together.

It was nice having a real friend again, someone to share interests and be silly, and truly relax with. Someone to trust.

It was that trust that left Masquerade floating as he woke to someone touching him. It was that sense of relaxation and safety that let him remain unperturbed as he realized that he was touching back.

“Are we awake?” Masquerade asked, voice muzzy from recharge.

Sideswipe’s optics were a dim, deep cobalt in the blackness of Masquerade’s quarters. “I think so, cuz I was havin’ this dream…”

“I think I was too.”

“I can go.”

Sideswipe shifted, already putting action to words, but Masquerade tightened his grip where his fingers were curled into gaps in Sideswipe’s plating. “You can stay. I just don’t want this to change anything.”

“This?”

In answer, Masquerade leaned in, lips pressing to the corner of Sideswipe’s mouth.

With a soft, “Oh this,” Sideswipe tipped his helm, molding his mouth over Masquerade’s and guiding them both into a slow, smoldering kiss.

Masquerade had already been aroused, but the kiss stole away his air. It’d been a damn long time since anyone had kissed him, and even longer since he’d decided not to stop at that. When hands went unerringly to his doorwing hinges, he gasped and arched into Sideswipe. One leg drew up the outside of Sideswipe’s to hook over his hip in blatant invitation.

“You sure?” Sideswipe asked in a whisper. “Cuz we don’t have to.”

Masquerade smiled, squirming closer. “No. We don’t _have_ to. We could stop.” He nuzzled in, searching out Sideswipe’s mouth again.

“We could,” Sideswipe replied, a smile evident in his voice.

Neither of them stopped. Sideswipe let the crest of his helm rest against Masquerade’s, optics shut as his hands smoothed over warm plating. Masquerade ran his fingers along transformation seams. Sideswipe was familiar, but touching him with such intent was new. Masquerade would have expected this to be awkward for them, but it was… nice.

Really nice, and getting better.

Masquerade tipped his helm, mouth moving to lick and suck at Sideswipe’s neck cables. He purred softly, then more deeply as Sideswipe’s hand caressed down his back to his aft and pulled him in tighter. Sideswipe purred as well, a low, rolling vibration from deep in his chest. It rumbled through Masquerade, and he didn’t resist the urge to let his panel retract. There was an answering click, then the hot length of Sideswipe’s spike extended to slide across Masquerade’s bared array.

Masquerade canted his hips as Sideswipe reached between them, gasping as the thick length pushed in.

“Primus!”

Sideswipe chuckled, confident, the sound of a mech who knew he was skilled in the berth. He rocked, hand still on Masquerade’s aft to help keep him close. Masquerade needed the help too. Lying on their sides was good. The position caused Sideswipe’s spike to rub over the anterior node with each slow, dragging thrust, but it also left Masquerade unable to reciprocate much. He was left clinging and gasping within minutes.

Masquerade’s hips ground in, the leg wrapped over Sideswipe’s hip flexing to urge on their pace. He moaned, softly at first, but as their rhythm sped up, he grew louder. Each thick plunge drew a sharp burst of sound, the charge only arcing higher as Sideswipe purred and whispered against his audial until-

“Masque!” Sideswipe shouted, thrusting harder, deeper.

Heated flooded Masquerade’s valve, and Sideswipe’s hands tightened on him. Masquerade keened, shivering and teetering on the edge, clawing toward his release. His valve spooled down tight, Sideswipe hissed a curse, and then the universe shattered. Masquerade cried out with each surge of ecstasy, lost in the release and reeling.

The overload ebbed slowly, both of them relaxing their grip on one another. Masquerade pulled his leg down, wincing a little as the joint ached. He wasn’t _that_ flexible after all, but it’d been worth it.

“Shower in the morning?” Sideswipe asked.

“Mmnh,” Masquerade agreed, recharge already calling him back to his dreams.

~ | ~

**I am done with this series.**

Masquerade snickered at the message. He received one like it every few chapters, and Sideswipe hadn’t quit yet. A point he was sure to make in his reply.

**Yeah, yeah. Slagger. Oh hey! Check you city messages. I have a trade for you. AND! I don’t know if they’ve scheduled it yet, but we’re doing our next supply stop in two weeks. Supposed to be an all-nighter since we have slag to go to Kimia the day before our stuff is due to arrive. What’s that flick you keep screaming about me never having seen?**

Masquerade had to think a minute, there were a ton of cult classics Sideswipe had never seen. **All of them. I’ll see if I can switch my shift around to have both days off once you’re officially scheduled.**

**Ha ha. Bastard. No the one you were talking about last time, but we didn’t get to see because I got recalled? And cool!**

Oh! That one, Masquerade thought. **It’s on the top of the pile,** he sent back, other hand going for a datapad where he kept a ‘to do’ list of sorts.

**Sweeeeet. Now. Tell me no one else is going to die? Lie if you have to.**

**No one else is going to die,** Masquerade replied, snickering to himself. That snickering quickly became full-blown laughter when Sideswipe responded.

~ | ~

Masquerade swung the bolster at Sideswipe’s helm in retaliation, then again.

“Hey stop!”

“You started it.” Masquerade laughed and swung again.

“But you lied!”

“You told me to!”

Sideswipe laughed, caught the bolster with both hands, and jerked it away from Masquerade. “That’s beside the point. You can’t tell me no one else dies, and then like the next fragging page it’s Slipshot eating a plasma round!”

Masquerade ducked a lazy return strike, and chuckled as Sideswipe flopped to the berth, hugging the bolster to his chest.

Shaking his helm, Masquerade crossed to the berth, then sent a signal to turn off the lights. “Everyone dies in that series. The author admitted that he enjoyed how the fans would scream and send him hate mail every time he killed off a character.”

“No way!” Sideswipe said, shifting over to make room for Masquerade as he crawled onto the berth.

“I might still have the article containing the interview.”

Sideswipe snorted. “Fine. I’ll read the last three books, but the next series better be less of an emotional rollercoaster ride.”

Masquerade let the comfortable pre-recharge silence reign for a few minutes, then gave a quiet, _evil_ chuckle.

“I hate you.”

~ | ~

“See ya next time, Masque!” Sideswipe called.

Masquerade didn’t often walk him to the docks, but there was a crate waiting with replacement parts for comms that he needed to grab.

“Oh just kiss him already,” someone called out.

Both Masquerade and Sideswipe snorted and kept walking separate directions. Masquerade waved, received a wave back in return, and headed for the pick-up station.

// _They ship us,_ // Sideswipe snickered over a private comm. // _I want fan fiction of us. If the Wreckers can have it, why can’t we?_ //

All Masquerade could do was shake his helm. //They would never get it right.//

// _Yeah. It’d all be ‘facing, but I still want it. They should entertain us if they’re going to make slag up about us anyways._ //

Masquerade glanced up as the warning for launch sounded. //Safe travels, Sideswipe.//

// _Yeah. Hey, I’ll message you after this next chapter so you can enjoy my tears and pain._ //

//You better.// Masquerade absently handed the flimsy with the information to the desk clerk, then turned to watch as the great hatches rolled shut and sealed so the _Ark 12_ could launch. //Talk to you soon.//

**Author's Note:**

> **([Table of Contents](http://ladydragon76.livejournal.com/6214.html) ) ******


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